Sidewalk Cafe

Slept all day & in the evening went to see what the Sidewalk Cafe is all about. Home of the Anti-Folk music scene, whatever that is. Folk with punk sensibilities or something, which strikes me as odd, since contextually sixties folk pretty much was punk as far as I'm concerned, but as you see fit. I came in during Reggie Watts' set. First thing you notice about him is a dense mop of hair that falls somewhere in-between an Afro & Einstein. He stands on stage alone, gripping a microphone. Beside him is a stool on which rests a small sampler, the kind probably intended to be used as a footpedal. He mouths a bass line or drum track, which the machine then loops, & he piles a wide range of sounds on top. Pretty amazing to watch. Next up was the Jason Trachtenberg Band, whom I didn't much like. Jason Trachtenberg, the whiny singer/guitarist/pianist played Rick Moranis to the bass player's James Belushi. Their songs were mostly sixties-era pop with blandly simplistic lyrics. Tuneful here & there, but not enough to keep my interest. The nervous (almost Tourettes-esque) stage patter between numbers was heavily laden with blurbs for their new album. Last band of the evening was Ching Chong Song, a piano/vocal duo. They were quite exciting, centering around the eccentric singer who also played singing saw on a few numbers. The overall effect was a little like a stage musical documenting the descent of Judy Garland into alcohol-fueled madness. The singer used her voice to jerk wildly off the scaffolding of melody, with abrasive shrieks & gurgles. Sort of like Kate Bush used to do in her early days, only much more emotionally traumatizing. At one point she applied lipstick in hectic circles that kept growing until her entire face looked smeared in blood.

Sat in a diner all night reading Motherless Brooklyn. Finished it by dawn. Wandered through Brooklyn at five in the morning, from Dumbo, down through Carroll Garden, to Red Hook. Lots of locksmiths & funeral homes. Subwayed up to Astoria & walked along the riverfront by Astoria Park. Manhattan, under the Triborough Bridge, was shrouded in fog. A postcard view. Subwayed to Washington Square specifically for my first taste of papaya juice. Not bad at all. Tried to stop at Roosevelt Island to see what's there but the subway kept rerouting & I gave up after two attempts. Rode some buses around just to see where they would go. Home by 2pm to get a couple hours of sleep in.